Mom was born on Calumet Island in the county of Pontiac in Quebec. A direct descendant of her Irish forebears who fled the Potato Famine.
A child of the Depression she married my Dad shortly after WW II. In 1964 we moved to Toronto, I was just turned 5.
She was a great fierce old school Mom who loved and stood behind her family through thick and thin all her life.
My niece is donating this urn for Mom. It is fitting that it is handmade locally in the Pontiac. But now I have a bit of a dilemma on my hands.
Mom has a spot with dad reserved for her. She left no specific instruction in her will but I did find a handwritten note on an old receipt for Dad’s burial expenses asking that her ashes be sprinkled off a bridge into a pond near to where Dad is buried. Mom just found it a peaceful spot and I know she did speak of this arrangement in life. But there may be a problem. It’s on a cemetery’s property and I do not believe sprinkling ashes is allowed anywhere except for a specifically designated area.
Knowing Mom she’d simply tell us to wait till no one is looking and fulfill her wishes. We may do that, so I won’t name the cemetery but I will see what the rest of the family says first. Mom was always ready to break the rules if she thought she was in the right.
Kathy’s arrangements were largely looked after in advance, thanks to her mother’s foresight and Kath’s own sense of duty and order and thankfully Mom’s are straightforward enough as well.
When Kathy passed away many of her friends and admirers wrote wonderful tributes and comments honouring her and true to form Kathy knocked it out of the park with her own obit. Mark Steyn has collected all of Kathy’s movie reviews and created a lovely archive.
It saved me a duty I simply wasn’t able to handle at the time, maybe not ever.
Two months have passed since she left us on the 9th of January. It’s still too soon. I owe her so much and my small skill is no match for what she deserves and frankly I am still overcome at times by her loss.
Covid restrictions have halted one of the sadder duties. Clothing donations. I sometimes think I will become a sort of Mr. Havisham. I have picked out a charity for Kathy’s belongings, one we often drove by. A haven for misguided women. It’s my call and I’m pretty sure Kath approves, our sense of humour meshed wonderfully. But they are not accepting anything until the plague restrictions end. On the bright side it does give me time to be sure of what to keep in her honour. An old pair of Converse high-tops will occupy a special place by our front door.
I am still occupied with settling other aspects of her estate. Our government is there to help which means exactly the opposite it seems. There is a perverse amount of paper work and even more perverse instruction. Why do they require up to 3 “final” tax returns?
Word to the wise, if possible make your arrangements early but even that won’t spare your loved ones the aftermath of government dealings.
I have many phone calls to make starting Monday as I deal with Mom’s passing so I will not be too active on the blog. Many thanks to my co-bloggers for keeping things going.
And many thanks to all of you for your understanding as I vent my grief.
